


Stargate SG-1 and Atlantis Ficlets

by Tarimanveri (Monksandbones)



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Crack, Episode: s01e22 Within the Serpent's Grasp, Episode: s02e21 1969, Episode: s09e10-11 The Fourth Horseman, Episode: s10e20 Unending, F/M, Gen, Other, Promotions, format: all-dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monksandbones/pseuds/Tarimanveri
Summary: Repost of ficlets originally written between 2005 and 2008, and originally archived in various places on livejournal. See chapter one for table of contents including titles, pairings, and warnings for each chapter.





	1. Table of Contents

**Chapter 1:** Contents

 **Chapter 2:** Untitled Double Drabble  
**Rating:** Teen and up  
**Pairing:** Daniel Jackson/Sam Carter  
**Warnings:** Discussion of infidelity  
**Episode:** _Stargate SG-1_ s01e22 Within the Serpent's Grasp

 **Chapter 3:** L is for Lieutenant  
**Rating:** General Audiences  
**Pairing:** None  
**Warnings:** None  
**Episode:** _Stargate SG-1_ s02e21 1969

 **Chapter 4:** This One's for the Lovers  
**Rating:** Teen and up  
**Pairing:** One-sided Jonas Quinn/OFCs  
**Warnings:** References to drinking and homophobia, slightly dubious consent  
**Episode:** _Stargate SG-1_ general season 6

 **Chapter 5:** The Fourth Horseman  
**Rating:** Teen and up  
**Pairing:** None  
**Warnings:** None  
**Episode:** _Stargate SG-1_ s09e10–11 The Fourth Horseman parts 1 and 2

 **Chapter 6:** Satisfaction  
**Rating:** General Audiences  
**Pairing:** Elizabeth Weir/Steven Caldwell, after a fashion  
**Warnings:** None  
**Episode:** _Stargate Atlantis_ general season 2

 **Chapter 7:** The Love of a Good  
**Rating:** General Audiences  
**Pairing:** Rodney McKay/Coffee, slight Rodney McKay/John Sheppard  
**Warnings:** PURE CRACK, all-dialogue  
**Episode:** _Stargate Atlantis_ general season 2

 **Chapter 8:** Penelope  
**Rating:** Mature  
**Pairing:** Sam solo  
**Warnings:** Sexual content  
**Episode:** _Stargate SG-1_ s10e22 Unending

 **Chapter 9:** Wings  
**Rating:** Teen and up  
**Pairing:** Cameron Mitchell/Sam Carther  
**Warnings:** Implied sexual content, all-dialogue  
**Episode:** _Stargate SG-1_ post-season 10, pre- _Atlantis_ season 4


	2. Untitled Double Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If we get captured or killed, there is going to be nobody left to blow this ship before it gets to Earth." Daniel has a moment with Sam aboard Apophis' ship during the season 1 finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fic in this fandom, written sometime in the fall of 2005. Original author's note: I learned my Sam/Daniel shipping early.

_..."If we get captured or killed, there is going to be nobody left to blow this ship before it gets to Earth."_

_"That’s why I’m setting a timer. If we don’t deactivate it in 24 hours, it’ll go automatically. Okay?"_

She looked up at him as she spoke, then went back to assembling the automatic detonator. Her face, between her black uniform and black hat, with the ends of her hair poking out around her collar, cried out waif, helpless waif, but her hands were steady and her eyes, steely and leveled on her work, said soldier. If anyone could board a ship, rig it with explosives, and set them off without flinching, it was Sam Carter. She was looking at him again, holding the detonator, waiting for his assent. His mouth went suddenly dry. He wanted to kiss her.

Sha’re, his mind screamed, Sha’re. Even here in the ‘Gate room of a Goa’uld ship probably bound for an unprepared and defenseless Earth, even though Sha’re was a fighter herself and might understand, even if he could never save her and find out, he couldn’t do it. They were facing certain death. Sam would wipe them out herself if she had to, and take the Goa’uld with her. She was a soldier. But surely, in extremis, a shared moment to take and give courage… But he couldn’t. He wanted to, and even that felt like betrayal. He couldn’t.

He swallowed.

_"Okay."_


	3. L is for Lieutenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't tell anyone, obviously. George Hammond in 1969.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for sg_fignewton's Hammond Alphabet Soup in August 2008.

He couldn’t tell anyone, obviously. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it. He thought about it all the time, or as much of the time as an active duty officer on a cold war base with elderly parents back in Texas to worry about and a girl to write and sneak out to see whenever he could had to think about the suddenly unveiled mysteries of his future. The four time travelers hadn’t given him much to go on, other than the note, the promise of making general, and the ray guns (damned but he wanted to know more about those). If they were really from the future like they’d said, did that mean the future was fixed? The one had spoken Russian. Maybe he was a special agent, or maybe… no. There was no way he was going to believe that the Soviets would be gone in thirty years. Maybe that meant the future wasn’t entirely fixed. But then what about making general? What if he changed things by grasping after them? Captain Carter – and Carter… she couldn’t be… or could she? – He remembered how she’d looked at him and called him “sir,” and he was pretty sure he knew respect when he saw it. He also thought he could probably tell a fine officer when he met one, and in this group, he thought he’d seen the finest. To have officers like that under his command, treating him with that kind of respect… if that was in his future, it was something to strive for. Maybe he had more potential than he thought. And what if his future self had only made it so far because he knew it was going to happen? Maybe it would ruin everything to try and force it, but that didn’t need to stop him from trying to be a better officer, did it? From carrying out his assignments and looking after his men and serving with pride and dedication? If that made a general out of him sometime in the future, good; if all that happened was that he became a better leader and a better man, well, that would be its own reward.


	4. This One's for the Lovers...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So tell us, do you know,” said Cardell, after she and Lewynski had each worked through several drinks in the crowded little bar they’d brought him to, “are Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter doing it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written in fall 2005 for the fanfic100 prompt "lovers."
> 
> Original author's note: This takes place sometime early in Season 6 during the oh-so-ficcable "adjustment to Earth customs" period. Jonas gets tag-teamed. They get drunk. He gets confused.
> 
> The song on the jukebox is from Carolyn Mark and the New Best Friends, _The Pros & Cons of Collaboration_ (if I recall correctly!).

The two technicians, Cardell and Lewynski, had been eying Jonas with speculative curiosity for some time now, every time he came into Sam’s lab. He’d begun to notice it himself several weeks ago. They would look at him, then look at each other, then duck down behind their computer screens and – mostly – not look up until he was leaving.

They ran him to ground outside the mess hall one Friday night when O’Neill had taken Teal’c to see a hockey game, and Dr. Frasier had sent Sam home with the ‘flu.

“Hey,” said Lewynski, the little curly-haired one with the glasses and the lab coat.

“What are you up to tonight?” asked Cardell, the tall blonde one, placing herself between Jonas and the entrance to the mess hall.

“I, uh, I just had some reading I was going to do,” said Jonas, who hadn’t noticed them this time until they were upon him and who really had been planning to use the evening for some quiet study of the schematics of the SGC’s latest bit of Goa’uld technology.

The two technicians shared a significant-looking glance. “We’re going out for a few drinks, if you’re interested,” said Cardell.

“It must get a bit lonely around here on the weekends,” added Lewynski.

Torn between the sudden dissociation from what he’d been thinking about, his plans for the evening, and trying to remember Cardell and Lewynski’s first names, Jonas found himself absentmindedly agreeing. To both the drinks and the “lonely around here on the weekends,” apparently.

***

“So tell us, do you know,” said Cardell, after she and Lewynski had each worked through several drinks in the crowded little bar they’d brought him to, “are Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter doing it?”

For a split second Jonas was confused. He bit back a “doing what?” Then it sunk in, and, well… Maybe he hadn’t heard her correctly. The bar was noisy. The jukebox or at least, he thought it was a jukebox, was spitting out something that sounded like “This one’s for the lovers and for my mother just to prove…”

“We’ve been wondering for a while,” added Lewynski. “SG-1 are – well, they used to be – so tight, you know, you could never get anything out of any of them. We sometimes wondered whether it was Sam and Dr. Jackson and not... I mean, obviously now…”

Jonas really didn’t know what to say to that. He suddenly wished he’d had more to drink – that second round with the two of them, and maybe the third and fourth as well.

“Anyway, we can hardly ever pry anything about SG-1 out of Sam.” The fourth round seemed to be working on Cardell. “She’s like… a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in…” She waved a vague hand in the air. “An invisibility suit,” she concluded. “We’re positive some of SG-1 must be doing it,” she added, leaning closer to Jonas, “and we thought that maybe you knew and could tell…”

Jonas was afraid his dismay might show on his face. Not only had it never crossed his mind to gossip about SG-1, it had never occurred to him that any of its members were… yes. It was possible that he even looked horrified, as Cardell’s focus abruptly went from off in space to turned intently upon him.

“Wait, you’re not doing Sam, are you?” she demanded.

“Oh God, or do you have a girlfriend on Kelowna?” asked Lewynski, who’d been quiet since she’d mentioned Daniel, staring down into the dregs of her fourth round and swirling the melting ice around in the glass. “That is so sad,” she wailed, without waiting for him to answer, or rather, seemingly failing to notice that he hadn’t answered her question yet. “You must be so lonely!”

Jonas was really starting to wish he’d had that second drink.

“You can always call on us, you know,” said Cardell, leaning toward him. “We’d be happy to... take care of you.”

Lewynski was now crying on his shoulder and Cardell was stroking the back of his neck and wiggling her eyebrows so suggestively at him that there was no way he could mistake her intention. He wished he could, but apparently that particular look was universal. This was uncomfortable. It wasn’t as if they weren’t perfectly nice women, but… His discussions with Teal’c about the habits of the Ta’uri had never extended to fending off the unsolicited attentions of drunken lab technicians, let alone letting them down gently before they could do something they’d regret later.

“Come back to my place tonight?” purred Cardell, now dipping her fingers under his collar and tickling the hollow of his throat.

Jonas swallowed. The situation was definitely not good and he could only think of one way to get out of it, if not gracefully, well then, at least well out of it.

“That metaphor about baseball,” he said, frowning with what he hoped looked like a good if unsubtle dose of ‘I’m not from this planet, remember?’ confusion. “Batting… swinging… it’s quite colloquial – I’m not entirely sure how it goes, but I’m kind of… it.”

Lewynski wiped her nose on his sleeve and looked up blankly. Cardell, who at least had the intellectual advantage of not having spent the last five minutes sobbing her eyes out, sat up, her face brightening with realization as it sank in. “Oh,” she said. “You bat… for the other team.”

“That’s it,” said Jonas, nodding.

“You’re gay!” Cardell said, loudly, a bit too loudly for Jonas. As he understood it, it wasn’t widely accepted in American society yet. The last thing he needed was to attract the wrong kind of attention, particularly since he was counting on both technicians having forgotten he’d said it by the next morning.

“You’re gay?” sniffled Lewynski. “And you had to leave your boyfriend behind on Kelowna forever?” She was off again. “That is so sad!”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,” said Cardell, exaggeratedly smacking herself in the forehead.

They didn’t seem put off. They didn’t seem put off at all.

“We’ve gotta get you to a gay bar!” said Cardell. “Find you a boyfriend. My gay friend… tell you what, I’ll set you up with…”

Jonas fled. He’d had enough of Earth for one night.


	5. The Fourth Horseman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The message came to Langara with a member of SG-17 dispatched from the Alpha Site.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written in fall 2005 for the fanfic100 prompt "death."
> 
> Original author's note: This is a scenario I've imagined playing out among Stargate teams and staff caught off-world by the events of the season 9 Episode "The Fourth Horseman" (from which I've shamelessly ripped the title). Word would have to go out to Earth's allies eventually as well. I wrote this with "The Fourth Horseman" in mind, but it could really take place after any apocalypse at any time after Jonas left Earth.

The message came to Langara with a member of SG-17 dispatched from the Alpha Site. It came to Jonas with an old friend from university who was now the representative of the Joint Ruling Council at the Stargate in the Kelownan capital.

“You spent a year there. You must have friends. I’m sorry,” she said, laying a hand over one of his.

When she had gone, Jonas opened his top desk drawer and took out the patch he’d worn on his shoulder for most of his time on Earth. He ran his thumb over the raised stitching. It was one of the few things he had brought back with him.

Maybe SG-1 had been off-world when it happened. Maybe Stargate Command had managed to contact them before they could return, and warned them…

There was no reason to think that they had escaped the fate of their fellow citizens. Could he even wish that for them, in all conscience?

He shut the SG-1 patch back in its drawer and returned to the letter he had been writing. He couldn’t remember to whom it was addressed; it didn’t seem important any longer. He picked up his pen. It felt unaccountably heavy. He didn’t move to begin writing again for a long time.


	6. Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was in her office again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caldwell/Weir, after a fashion. I think this had another title at some point but I can't remember what it was. Also, birthday fic for a, who lent me her SG-1 DVDs during the 2005–2006 academic year. Written in 2006 or 2007.
> 
> Set sometime during season 2 of Atlantis.

He was in her office again. In the sweater, not the emasculating jumpsuit he normally wore. Oh God. It came back to her as she looked up at him. She’d fantasized about it last night. She felt her face redden. She’d imagined endless variations on how it might happen. The slow build out of mutual antagonism. After he beat her at chess. After she beat him at chess. When the Daedalus arrived from Earth. Perhaps even on the landing platform. Suddenly. Inevitably. The tension, building for so long. The satisfaction release promised.

God, but she was dying to slap him.


	7. The Love of a Good...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I take it back! You’re worthy of bearing my children after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know. I apparently wrote this in 2006.
> 
> Second Cup is a Canadian coffee chain with coffee that is arguably slightly better than either Tim Hortons or Starbucks (although not better than the BC coffee chain Blenz, fight me!).
> 
> Original author's note: Umm, insanity. Insanity that's been lurking in the depths of my hard drive for about a year, at this point. Now posted in a moment of further insanity. Inspiration for various points can be credited to a) Rodney's OH SO CANON Tim Hortons mug, b) my own mug collection and hierarchy, c) my mom's OUTRAGEOUS mug collection, and d) my undergraduate advisor's never-washed mug.

“You have got to be kidding me, McKay. You, you brought these… all these, you brought all these back with you from Earth?”

“What’s the problem here?”

“I really think a visit to Heightmeyer is in order, Elizabeth. Can you order it? Because this, besides being totally outside my jurisdiction, is way beyond me.”

“Oh, I am staying out of this one, John. I’ll be outside continuing to actively stay out of this one if you need me.”

“I repeat, Colonel, I repeat very clearly and in words of one syllable, what is the problem – oh wait, too many syllables, what is wrong with this?”

“What isn’t wrong with this, McKay? You’re insane. You took some of that weird Canadian cold medicine while you were home. Or I don’t know, you had to pay so much income tax that your brain dribbled out your ears, or… McKay, you’re sitting in a science lab in another galaxy and you are surrounded by dirty coffee mugs. That you brought. From Earth.”

“Yes, so? You actually see a problem with this?”

“McKay, a thirty-six day trip on a spaceship and you bring back a cargo of mugs? I mean, look at them! This one has kittens on it, for Chrissakes. And this one – I thought you Canadians took pride in not being oh wait, how did you put it that one time? Rude jingoistic flag-wavers, you were pretty smug about it.”

“So it has a Government of Canada logo on it, so what? Do you see any ‘God Bless’ in there? So there’s a small flag over the a, and you think what, I’m planning an intergalactic Canadian coup? Wait, that is not funny! Maybe I will, and when I do, you won’t know what hit you.”

“But seriously, McKay, the mess has mugs, lots of them. What possible use can you have for a decrepit – ugh, have you ever even washed this – insulated Tim Hortons mug in the Pegasus galaxy? You could have brought music! You could have brought porn! We don’t even have a reliable coffee supply!”

“I don’t even know where to start with you! I mean, look, you can insult my Government of Canada mug all you want, but my Tim Hortons mug is sacred. It is old and venerable and no, I have never washed it, because that would be sacrilege. I mean, can you see the perfect patina that’s built up inside there over years of commutes? That mug carried the coffee that jump-started my brain every morning of my illustrious university career and frankly there are very few mugs in existence that even come close to equaling its worth. If my mugs were women it would be the only one I own worthy of carrying my children and you’re casting aspersions upon it and I won’t stand for it.”

“Would this be a bad moment to point out that you’re sitting… wait… are you implying that there’s some sort of… mug hierarchy at work here? And bear your children? McKay, did you actually get into the sketchy Canadian cold medicine or something? Seriously, can I have some of whatever you’re smoking?”

“Do you want to take this outside, Colonel? Because the honour of my mug collection is at stake here and… what is it, Radek?”

“It is Elizabeth, she seems to be dying in the corridor.”

“What’s happened?”

“It is some kind of convulsion, Rodney. Never have I seen a person laugh so much. What is so funny?”

“Rodney’s been showing me his mug collection. He has a mug hierarchy, did you know? I think we should both back away slowly with our hands visible.”

“What is wrong with a mug hierarchy? I don’t see a problem. So Rodney likes some of his mugs more than he likes some of his other mugs and so maybe some of his mugs he likes more than he likes some people, why does this upset you?”

“Yes, you tell him, Radek.”

“No, in fact, I shall say nothing, Rodney. I shall say nothing at all about mugs nor about my personal collection of schnapps glasses brought straight to Atlantis from the Czech Republic. When we acquire high-proof alcohol and drink it out of these glasses and with joy and vigor smash them on the lab walls afterwards John will not be invited to the party, is all.”

“Wait, high-proof alcohol? Where are you going to get high-proof alcohol? Wait, I want to be invited to that party!”

“It is far too late for that, I am very afraid.”

“I cannot believe this. Suddenly I am very much the victim here.”

“Excuse me, it’s my mugs we’re insulting here.”

“Now Rodney, this is enough, I think. Sheppard, he is not a survivor of graduate school, he can never understand what is a true love of coffee. This is a sad thing, but irreparable. He needs pity, not pistols drawn in the corridor.”

“Whoa, whoa! Air Force, remember? Night ops! Basic training! You can’t possibly think that I don’t appreciate coffee.”

“Oh, coffee. They probably gave you speed. I wrote my doctoral dissertation fueled by nothing but espresso and Kraft dinner.”

“Okay, so I didn’t survive grad school. I’m not part of the cult. I get it. Whatever.”

“I should think not.”

“Anyway, before I got distracted by your fetish objects here, I was coming to tell you that they’ve unloaded the supplies.”

“Supplies?”

“Supplies, McKay.”

“Supplies as in coffee for my mugs? And you didn’t tell me? Until now?”

“McKay…”

“Come, Rodney. Let us put aside petty squabbles and take Colonel Sheppard and go to worship at the temple of freshly-arrived Earth coffee in the mess hall.”

“We’ll finish this later, Sheppard, I swear…”

“Coffee, McKay. We’re taking you to have coffee. And I think we all know who’s in charge of requisitions here.”

“Oh, come on. I could hack the requisitions system blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back.”

“So that’s why you left it to my discretion to special order you a personal stash of Second Cup so we can all stop listening to you whine about Canadian coffee, is that it?”

“Wait, what?”

“Second Cup, McKay.”

“I take it back! You’re worthy of bearing my children after all.”

“McKay, what the…”

“My first born. I mean you can have my first-born. I leave him in your capable hands. Second Cup! Remind me to thank you properly later.”

“Carson? This is Sheppard. I think we need a med team outside McKay’s lab. No, no accident. It’s Elizabeth and Zelenka, they’re laughing so hard they’ve turned purple…”


	8. Penelope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is certainly not that kind of woman now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in 2007 sometime after "Unending" aired.
> 
> Original author's note: My answer to all the "everyone must have been getting it on during "Unending" on the Odyssey" commentary. And umm, yeah, this one sort of clawed its way out of my brain. I've done creepy things with stringed instruments and I'm sorry. But not that sorry.

Nights on the Odyssey, Sam slides her fingers down between her thighs, taking herself apart so her mind is clear and she can sleep. Sometimes it works, and sometimes she can’t come hard enough to forget that she’s expected to do the impossible, and she gets up and washes her hands. Those nights she plays for hours, the team’s quarters now drifted so far apart that there’s no one around for her to disturb. The throb of the cello between her legs fills her somehow in ways no man ever has.

Maybe Sam was never the kind of woman who would wait for a knight on a white horse to sweep her off her feet and give her an orgasm. She is certainly not that kind of woman now. Teal’c is infinitely patient; his trust in her is too absolute. Daniel and Vala are fragile and awestruck and lost in each other. She may never be ready to test herself against the jagged edges of Cameron’s frustration. But her fingers are clever, growing callused now with her increasing mastery of bow and strings. She presses them against the neck of her cello. She presses them up into herself where she is warm and alive and suspended in time and space as she explodes and knits herself back together into something that is stronger and prepared to face each day.


	9. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Watch it, I outrank you now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for PORNUCOPIA 2007, hosted by Surrealis.
> 
> Original author's note: This isn't really porn. But it's the soundtrack to porn! You can all imagine the porn for yourselves! What's that about the mind being the strongest aphrodisiac - or is it sex organ? Well, whatever. You get the idea.

“…Always kinda planned… to wait… ‘til you made General… to do this… but was starting to look like I wasn’t gonna… get the chance what with… team and now… you know… leaving for…”

“Cam, just…”

“Mmm, all righ’… anyway, was the plan. Was a good plan… but the eagle wings do it for me… just as well… Colonel.”

“I should – oh! – get back in there before… mmm… they miss me… though.”

“Think we’re past… just walking back… in.”

“Mmm, you might be right about that… Cam… shaft.”

“Goddamn are you trying to… give me a coro – guh – coronary?”

“Mmm, might be.”

“Besides… mmph… I’ve never… made out… with a full-bird Colonel before in a hotel… full of top… Air force brass.”

“Celebrating my promotion… and looking for me… if I don’t show up again… soon, so we really… wow… really need to get a room… and that’s an order.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Won’t be a problem… Ma’am.”

“Oh, God… do that again.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“No… mmm… the other… thing.”

“Yes, Ma’am."

“Wait, you were planning to jump me when I made General?”

“Took you a while.”

“Watch it, I outrank you now.”

“Yes, Ma - mmmph.”


End file.
